


Absorption

by AngelicRamen



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Genderfluid Character, Genderqueer Character, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Trans Male Character, Tumblr: Writing-prompt-s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 07:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16909032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelicRamen/pseuds/AngelicRamen
Summary: This story originated on tumblr, writing-prompt-s made the prompt, inkskinned created a beautiful story and I highly recommend reading it. An OC of mine wanted to be written with one of the characters and this happened.





	Absorption

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Power Absorption](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/438813) by Inkskinned. 



**Four Hundred Six Days Before**

For every similarity between us there were even more things that made us dissimilar. They’d brought us together because we both were sponges. Well, I guess more like paper mache, because you don’t stop recognizing a sponge no matter how many times you use it. We had layers and layers and layers of other people coated over us, until what was underneath either didn’t matter, or was removed entirely.

Both of us were lucky, and both of us were worse off.

I was infinitely frightened, making it worse for myself by scrolling through every ability I’d ever encountered or heard of and realized this was someone who could have all of them at once. The terror shifted when I met him, when I saw eyes that were supposed to be younger than my own by six years looking at me like someone who knew everything that haunted my nights.

I don’t believe love at first sight is real, and if it was it paled in comparison to understanding at first sight. I would choose not feeling alone above any other feeling at first sight. I didn’t have to wake up every morning and wonder which terrifying soldier’s power seeped into my bones. I didn’t have to know that I would just get more and more “useful” to the people wielding the human weapons. I didn’t have a higher and higher death count expected of me each time I was out in the field. Or have to see every new way that I, myself, could mangle bodies. I sat on a hill of corpses but he sat on a mountain.

But he didn’t have to feel their memories. He didn’t step on the ashes of a hoodie, and see the Phoenix getting it at 13 from their best friend. He didn’t have to see him say goodbye to his best friend turned boyfriend. He didn’t have to feel him die in that hoodie. He didn’t have memories invade him every hour of every day. He didn’t lie to people with their lovers face. At least not yet. As far as Riley knew, he was the only super to be able to copy a face perfectly.

Both of us were lucky, and both of us were worse off.

Standing there looking at him I knew it wouldn’t be the last time. We were uniquely useful to our masters holding the leash. But I could hear both of our silent thanks when we couldn’t absorb anything from one another. Eventually they had him touch a momento while holding my hand. It worked. We both saw one of my old unit buddies proposing, and we saw him keeping the flower that had been in her hair.

When they asked, my response was instant, much before the freshly 18 kid could speak, “No. Doesn’t work that way either.”

“Riley, let him answer,” they chastised me. It took a second, but that was the first time I heard his voice, “No, no he’s right. It didn’t work.”

They looked upset. Turned away to take notes, and that was the first time I saw gratitude in his expression. It was silent and pained, but that’s how I assumed he usually was when they got all… science testy. It was how so many of us were; silent and pained.

**Three Hundred Eighty One Days Before**

Transport was a grim thing, and it was most grim coming back from somewhere. Lots of people on the train could get there in half the time, a quarter, a millionth, but my guess was they wanted to make sure we came back. Instead of finding a shrink to cry at for four hours or find a good cave to hide in for eternity, probably.

Whenever I go to sit I kind of just stop caring, I land with a dull thud, and I landed with a dull thud next to Tim. “You look worried.” Which was a stupid thing to say. We were all worried. Always. But still I sat there. And still the train kept rocking.

It wasn’t until most of the depressed souls in our car were asleep that he spoke to me. It was quiet, and not really meant for me. Not really meant for anyone. “I learned how to make people just - decide to stop breathing today,” was what Tim said. My brain sometimes hears words and doesn’t put them together at first. That wasn’t what happened, but there was a similar delay. Probably from trying to imagine what that was like. Or Maybe just because I barely sleep and I’m an idiot and have to think really hard sometimes.

“Shit, Tim,” a long sigh escapes as the fans turn on in my overheating brain. Playing cards always helped me, so I pull them out of my jacket, “You know you can play go fish without a table.” I deal the cards, put the fish bowl cards in my hat, and set the box down for whatever we discard. Somehow, the guy plays go fish with me.

“They didn’t actually tell me what you can do,” he said, possibly testing the waters, possibly trying to drown out the screams from the field with actual conversation.

“I steal people. I steal their memories from things they’ve touched, I steal their faces from dead skin cells, I steal them. I’m no one, really. Only reason I even remember this is my face is ‘cause I can feel when I’m shifted. I’ve been a thousand people,” I gesture to my face. It’s square and handsome and rugged or whatever. “I wish I could shave some years off ‘cause I got the eyes of a 90 year old. And who wants to age like an old time president? Pfft, not me. Is it happening anyway? Yeah, probably.”

“How are you so…” he starts and can’t stop. But I know what he means. I’m four years into this. Almost five. And yet, I make banter.

“Because if I’m not, I’ll probably just give up and die,” I shrug. “I wasn’t, for a long time, but I guess I’m just numb. And I’m not anyone anymore.”

“Do you have any threes?”

“Go fish. Do you have a light? Or any sevens?” Of course he had a light, he was the magic sponge, of course he had fire. I ran my fingers over it and turned into a blaze of glory.

“JENSSEN, FUCKING COOL IT, NOT EVERYTHING ON THIS TRAIN IS FIREPROOF,” a deep and very annoyed voice booms in the train. But there’s a hint of exhaustion, one that gives away that I do this kind of shenanigan all the time.

I snuff myself out and chuckle, “Hey, that sounds like a personal problem. It ain’t my train.”

“So not just people,” Tim says.

“No, but not many things. I don’t really understand the rules if I’m honest.”

“…I don’t know that I want to understand.” He hands me his seven.

**Three Hundred Sixty Nine Days Before**

Seeing Tim is different this time. It isn’t playing go fish on a train. No. This time it would almost just be in passing, but I’m taking out the queen before he destroys a hive. “Oi, Tim, I’ma make this one an easy one for you, okay?” I give him a little smile. But I know it doesn’t help. I know nothing helps.

A backpack gets shoved into my hands before I get on the train. I know he can still see. I know he understands. It’s not mine. Clearly. It’s small and a unicorn and covered in charms. And as cool as unicorns are, Tim understands by this point I own nothing of my own anymore but a deck of cards. It is not my unicorn.

Within moments I know the unicorns name is Bert. Bert Gumm. Like gumdrops. I get his laugh from his Nintendo. I get the way he looks when he’s frustrated from his pencil case. One he’s had since math class in high school. He’s a normal human. One unlucky enough to be dating a very powerful phoenix. It doesn’t take many memories to feel how loved he is. I run my fingers over everything, get as much of his personality as I can manage, and spend the rest of the train ride holding the straps of the backpack. The strongest memory being our people grabbing him in the street, and locking him away.

He knows they’re after Trent. He knows they’ll find him. He knows the man he loves is as good as dead. He knew it the moment he felt himself falling to the ground.

Flowers. His power is flowers. He can tell how many pedals are on any flower without counting them. That’s it. That’s his power. And for a second I let myself wonder what Tim or I would be like if that was our power.

Stepping into the small man’s skin isn’t the hard part. It’s seeing the love in the Phoenixes eyes while I lie to him with his face. It’s seeing the confusion when his love is gone and there’s only me. Me and death knocking on his door.

The importance isn’t in what happens. We all know what happens. With their leader unknowingly dead, it’s child’s play for a guy with powers like Tim to clean them up. Maybe not mentally, but logically? It is next to nothing for someone with so many soldiers inside. I know it is while I wait on the nearly vacant train back. The babysitter to bring us back to prison.

“Want to play gold fish on a cot?” he asked. I’d been touching the backpack. Holding the straps. I hadn’t heard him coming. But I knew he saw what I’d been watching over and over and over. He knew. I knew. “Bad idea there, Ace. You already have enough on your plate.”

“Too much for go fish?”

“Too much to be seeing the shit I see. C’mon lets play with the goldfish.”

“Can they be koi?”

“Sure, Tim. They can be koi fish.” I don’t know why he wanted that. And walking down the train car I wonder if I’ll regret not asking it later.

Expectations can shatter for all kinds of reasons, mine shattered when I pulled out the deck of cards. Tears were already falling down his face, “Tim….”

He spent the night crying against me. As if there was anything I could do. As if it helped ease his pain in the slightest when we both knew nothing could make this okay for him. He wasn’t made for this kind of life. It’s invasive. He knows his memories seep in whenever we touch. Even a little. But this time maybe it’s good. This time he doesn’t have to try and find the words to explain to someone.

I already know. I see it, and I feel it, and I know language would fail him. Language so often does fail us when it comes to pain. We try and we try but we can’t really explain the way it hurts. And in my experience that’s what makes it so much worse. But this time he doesn’t need to try. I just know. Though it does little to nothing for any way to help him.

For the first time in a long time I want to be mad at the people giving the orders, I want to hate them for making such a sweet boy cry his eyes out on a near stranger. And I think I hate myself a little for not being able to find the energy.

The only good thing about my powers is how many memories I have of that moment where you stop really remembering and are about to drift off. So for a moment I can make everything melt away. When he doesn’t have any more tears left and he can only shake, I can give him just a moment of peace and help him just sleep. I can’t stop the dreams that come. I can’t make it restful. But a moment sometimes is more than nothing, and when it isn’t you can pretend it matters.

**Three Hundred Thirty Six Days Before**

Probably the only time that I would work directly with Tim. I wasn’t really a front lines guy, I was a sneak in and kill people guy. I managed when the place I was suddenly turned into the front line. Or just turned to water and waited out the fire fight. But they needed me today, me specifically.

Sort of.

They needed Tim, needed his fire while a woman with scarlet dyed hair named Reza created earthquakes and chaos. But Tim was so much now. So much to control. So much to keep in check. Tiny targets weren’t exactly easy.

Phoenix had stolen a briefcase, one that was very important. It wasn’t clear if they had opened it or not yet. But blowing up the whole compound didn’t ensure that it would be destroyed.

Simple enough. I’d just become a spark and sneak into it in the chaos they created. What we didn’t know is I’d get lost in the inferno. What we didn’t know is that Tim would need to latch on to me in all that flame and pull me out. What he didn’t know is that I would be forced back out, forced into my boring flesh, and crash land in the dirt near his feet. What I didn’t know was the pain and guilt I’d see on his face when he realized I’d broken bones and lost skin in the process.

“Hey, Ace, uh, we gotta work on that landing routine,” I smiled.

“Don’t - Do not make jokes right now.”

“Sorry, Tim. Sorry. I’ll be fine.”

“Riley… Riley, no, I’m so…. so sorry.” But that was all he could say. Because he was the rest of the fight. His hell couldn’t pause for him. His hell couldn’t pause for anyone.

—-

Later, after I’ve been patched up, it’s time to get a drink with Reza. She was already drunk and angry, “I WANTED TO FUCKING DIE. THE KID SAVED ME, RILEY. HE SAVED ME.”

“Most people would say thank you.”

“Like hell they would! We’re all miserable bastards here in the top 100, Riley, and you know it. Just ‘cause you pretend to be okay doesn’t mean you’re okay.”

“He’s just a kid compared to you, grandma. How the fuck could you ask him to kill you?”

“Riley - Look. I saw the building coming down, and I wasn’t scared. I only whispered “Please let it hit me” I didn’t think he’d actually Hear it.”

“Since you’re not gonna, I’ll just thank him for you, and for your girlfriend. And also, you’re an idiot. He’s got like a million supers and you didn’t think he’d hear you.”

“Uagghhh I know. I know. Fuck me, dude. I’ll buy him some ice cream when we get back.”

“He’s not five!”

“Everyone loves ice cream!”

—-

“Hey, Ace, I just wanted to thank you for saving both of-” my words cut off as I pushed open the door. Tim rushed to finish pulling his sweater over his head and his face steeled when he looked at me. “I don’t wana hear a word-”

“Tim.”

“Riley, I swear to god, I can’t….. I can’t Handle you, of all people, out here, giving me shit or calling me ‘she’ or, or…” his voice trailed off. He just stared right at the center of my torso when I took his shoulders.

“Tim. I’ve been a thousand people. I barely remember what gender is. Don’t think of you any different just because your anatomy was sold separately.” 

We actually played go fish properly on a cot this time. Since I already knew about the whole, bound situation, he didn’t have to make up an excuse to step away before putting on pajamas and laying down well after the sun went down. Looking at Tim, he seemed… I don’t want to say normal. Because normal people aren’t as kind natured as Tim was. But you could almost forget how powerful his presence was.

His top surgery was going to be today, but this mission moved it. He was most excited because he had stolen a man named Tannim’s ability. Tannim was in the top ten. He could cut you just by thinking about it. Stand on a cliff and cut your heart in half inside your body. He was a sociopath. I don’t know if he always was, but he was by the time I had met him. And in talking about it, I knew it terrified Tim. It should. Tannim was a living nightmare.

But - and this was the important part - he could erase scars faster than anyone else. In a moment they were gone. And now, after his surgery, there would be no recovery time. Tim would heal and it would look like that’s how he always was, not just how he was meant to be. Or, if he decided to keep the scars, they would immediately be healed and he wouldn’t have to deal with pain or risk of infection.

Getting away from the subject of Tannim was important though, it was important to pretend the other part of his magic didn’t come with it.

“Do you remember? All the people you’ve been?” He says with his arm bent under his head. I can’t remember the last time I laid down with someone.

“Not… really. I’ve been… fuck, probably three or four thousand people.”

“How much do you remember?”

“Too much. I… only kind of know which memories are mine and which belong to other people. But there’s not many I’m one hundred percent sure of.”

“…I’m sorry, Riley.” He’s quiet for a long time, staring at the center of my torso again. “Do you ever feel like… a puzzle, where you’re just a bunch of pieces from other people’s boxes?”

“Everyday.”

“My friend told me… that “we love a river because it is a reflection”.”

“Do you believe that?”

“I wish I did.”

Silence fell on us again. We just lay there for a while. I don’t know how long it was. But these train rides were finite. Especially with Tim. It was the only thing I didn't’ spend the whole time wishing was over. “I always thought about it like paper mache. Layers and layers and layers on top of who we were.”

His face watched me closely, like it was the first time it truly clicked that I understood. More than most people anyway. I knew of his friends, I knew they loved him, I knew they tried.

“When I first made paper mache… it was on a balloon… we popped it after it dried. No idea what the point was.”

“….when am I going to pop?”

“Don’t think there’s a balloon in there, Ace. Looks more like - you know - a golden heart.”

An annoyed groan filled the previously heavy space, “God, why do I put up with you?”

“Shit, I was hoping it was because you loved me.”

“I will push you right out of this bed so help me god.”

“One, pretty sure God doesn’t have shit on you. Two… it’s technically a cot.” He stared at me for less than a moment before my body thudded hard on the floor of the train. His “Wait- Riley- NO! You were supposed to fight back! I’m so sorry. Why did you let me do that?!” was drowned out by loud laughter from the floor.

**Two Hundred Ninety Two Days Before**

I didn’t know he was back.

I was in the middle of a work out, since my human flesh sack was squishy and non-magically gifted in the combat I so often found myself in.

Tim burst in, which was a very un-Tim-like thing to do, and makes me stop in my tracks. “Tim, what’s- ooh, boy,” I don’t think I’m going to get an answer. He tells me about the endless man, and I know who he means. I know tiny pieces of him are buried all over the world now. I know he can't die. I know he'll be there forever. He’s crying on my shoulder, but I can only put a hand on his back because I’m swimming in the memories of the endless man’s dead partner.

Like he always seems to be able to do, he pulls me out of my magic, “They said I would have a night here,” it’s really the panic in his voice that pulled me. “They told me I would have a night here and now they’re telling me to get on the train. I heard you were here and they said - They said I would have a Night Here, Riley!”

“Hey,” my hands move up and down his upper arms, unsure of what else I can do. “Ace… hey, hey… take a deep breath. We’ll try and weasel you a day before you ship out, okay? We’ll try.” I’m an officer now, running squadron one division seven, something I think they did to celebrate that I’ve worked for them for so many years without dying. Which isn’t common.

“I can’t keep doing this, Riley. I can-I can’t. You’re always so calm. How are you so calm? I don’t know what to do.”

“Tim,” when he finally looked up, I gently touched his jaw. “It’s sweet that you think I have any answers.”

**One Hundred Seventy Three Days Before**

Every time you saw him, he was just so much. It was hard to think of the previous him as so much, because every time he’d be so much more.

It was like standing next to a campfire, where you could feel how much he was emitting, but more intense.

I didn’t let it bother me. I couldn’t. Tim was so much, but he was everything.

Apparently getting him ice cream had worked well, because now Reza and Tim just bickered when they saw each other. But the friendly kind of bicker.

“God, you’re like a microwave with the door open,” she said.

“Jailbroken microwave dot black market dot crime,” he smiled.

“What?”

“…Reza, microwaves don’t turn on with the door open unless you jailbreak them.”

“Ohh.”

“How did you finish high school?”

“She didn’t,” I chimed in.

“God, finally,” Tim smiles, but it’s not enough to hide how hard just existing is on him now. “You have no idea what it’s like just having her for company.”

“I mean I do have to work with her constantly,” can’t help the lopsided grin whenever they bicker.

“C’mon you guys,” Reza groans. “Lets just go get our food.”

“Yeah- hey, Riley, after dinner do you wana play go fish?”

**Ninety Two Days Before**

Tim’s knuckles don’t turn white because he wants to brawl. In my experience they turn white because he can’t stand himself. He showered first, and my eyes land on his white knuckles as I walk out of mine. He hasn’t moved. Like a statue at the edge of my cot, both hands squeezing the edge of the mattress, if you can really call it that, and staring at nothing.

“Oi, Ace,” I know I snap his attention, but not a muscle in his body moves. I know this debate well. Should I say and risk setting shit on fire while we sleep? Should I leave? Where would I go? “Ace. Stay. You know I want you to stay.”

“It’s not about your preference, Riley.”

“Please.”

His head hangs. I’ve won. But what does that really mean?

Without looking up he grabs my hand, and I remember how warm he runs, even though I’ve felt his skin a million times now. He radiates so much… muchness. His forehead presses to the pink burn scar on my forearm. There’s almost a break in his voice, “There are people who can get rid of scars you know.” It makes me remember that his voice isn’t entirely his anymore. I know he wants to get rid of it. I know he hates looking at it. But I know it would haunt him even if he couldn’t see it.

I know he’d see me and think of waking up to burning me in his sleep. It was a nightmare. I should have gotten up and gotten water. But I’m stubborn. I keep trying to comfort him no matter how many times he tells me it’s too dangerous.

“Don’t want that,” I say quietly.

“Why not?”

“Scars don’t form on the dead, kid.”

“I’m so sorry, Riley.”

“Tim.”

“If you tell me it’s okay one more goddamn time, I’m going to lose my shit. It’s not okay, Riley! I’m dangerous! I’ll always. Be. Dangerous! I’m just a weapon in a human skin! I don’t even know why you lov-”

“Tim.”

“What?!”

“I forgive you. It hurt, but I forgive you. You didn’t mean it. It healed just fine. Tim… No way a heart like yours is in ‘just a weapon’… Look up,” and he does and I’m so grateful that his eyes don’t echo a million lives like his voice. They just wear the pain of a million lives. But I see the ghosts of kindness and hope and wonder hiding in their facets. Things he once had. Things he tries so hard to hold on to. “I’d rather it happen again than watch you leave. And I know you know I’m not lying, cause I’m an idiot.”

“Stop being mean to yourself…. I’ll kick your butt,” he says with the weak smile. The one that makes me want to hate them. That makes me start to.

“Oh? OH? Whipper-snapper, I’ll kick your butt. You don’t scare me, guy.”

“What does scare you? If not the million power monster?”

“Mustard.”

“Must-” and there it is. The reason everything is easy for just a moment. The laugh. The beautiful, rare, amazing laugh. “How do you do that so seriously?”

“Practice. C’mon, lay with me Million Blanket Monster,” I almost yawn out the words. He’s so warm, and it almost can lull me to sleep like the memories I try to give him to help remember what it feels like to peacefully drift off. It’s so comfortable. And he can pretend for less than an a moment that he doesn’t have a world of weight on his shoulders.

**Three Days After**

I didn’t see him again before he switched sides. But I truly don’t think that had anything to do with it. Tim was pushed to his limit… constantly. And pushed and pushed and pushed. I don’t know what they expected.

No one told me.

I was out in the field, and suddenly there was Tim. There was Tim fighting on the other side. And I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but I knew he wouldn’t forgive me staying to watch.

So I left.

Like the coward I am.

**Twenty One Days After**

“You’re the ones that made him feel like a monster, what the Fuck did you expect?” I’m yelling. I can’t remember the last time I raised my voice to anyone.

“Riley Jenssen, you would do well to hold your tongue. He’s nothing but a traitor,” an old man in a fancy uniform with a thousand medals he didn’t earn sneers at me. Trying to stare me down. But what he doesn’t know is nothing could make me afraid. What would they do? Kill me?

No one can scare me anymore.

Tim is an ocean of powers and all they care about is the hum of the reflection, the electricity that skips across the surface like a million stones. The canyons that it carves through the earth and the monsters that jump out of it’s depths like bullets. But I don’t care about the waves crashing on the surface. I don’t care about the power. I saw the ocean and I didn’t care about the reflection, I jumped in.

No one can scare me anymore.

And finally, finally after too long, so much longer than he deserved, I hate them. I hate their guts. I hate their eyes. I hate their memories. I hate everything that they are.

“You turned the sweetest guy in this whole organization into a super weapon, tortured him and you’re surprised that he’s gone off the leash? You people pushed him into this. You have not one single person to blame but yourselves. Tim has a heart of gold you lot buried it trying to turn him into a soldier,” the venom I spit doesn’t matter. They won’t care. Maybe they can’t. But I feel like I have to because he deserves it. He deserved it. He deserved it such a long time ago, but I was always a coward.

“Shut your mouth,” a man tells me.

“What’ll you do if I don’t? Label me a traitor? Kill me? You think I’m even a little bit scared of you?”

A man ran in, a man with a report. They looked at me with smugness, they looked at me with eyes ready to relish in my pain, and then he spoke, “We have a confirmed kill of the traitor. Of Tim, sir.”

In that moment I couldn’t feel anything anymore, expect the sting in my eyes. “Dismiss me.” They didn’t. They talked and talked and he couldn’t hear anything they said. I found dust in the air, and scattered with in the man made wind of the air conditioners.

**Sixty Seven Days After**

They went with the “kill me” option. But I’d learned to run. I’d learn to be thousands of people. Turns out they couldn’t find a drop of water in an ocean, but she could. I don’t know how she could, but she did.

I wasn’t afraid of them finding me. Not when I first ran, and not when I knocked on his door, I was afraid of all the ways I’d failed him, running through them all. The door opened, a smiling face greeted me, “Riley, you made it.” He barely finishes his sentence before I’m hugging him, tears streaming down my face. He puts his hands on my back anyway “I couldn’t tell you, please don’t be mad.”

“How could I be mad?” I rubbed his back, and took a deep breath. “It’s so good to see you. Wana play go fish?” The card deck is dirty and old, but i recognize it, and there are countless memories on every card. Most of Tim. But never did he look so much like himself as now.

“Well, that sounds absolutely riveting. But I would rather cook you dinner, and do something that's not that. Come in,” he smiles, and it’s real, and I get to hear him laugh. A laugh that makes everything worth it. When I don't move at first he talks again, because of course he realizes that I'm just mad at myself. “Don’t tell me you're afraid of food without meat? I thought that was only mustard.” 

“Two fears, Tim.” 

“If you don’t like it, I’ll pay for a pizza or something.” 

“Can we do that preemptively?” 

“No!” He laughs, and pulls me by the hand to go inside. Everything is worth it.


End file.
